


Fine Wine

by OwlMaescia



Category: RP Stories - Fandom, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic, Star Wars The Old Republic - Freeform - Fandom
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-15
Updated: 2018-11-15
Packaged: 2019-08-23 23:33:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16628606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OwlMaescia/pseuds/OwlMaescia
Summary: This story is based on the famous MMORPG, Star Wars: The Old Republic. Paislee, a struggling alcoholic, had a relapse. This work is just a play on descriptive writing style and I hope you enjoy. Don't drink and drive.





	Fine Wine

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Alcoholic triggers, PTSD triggers.

After that tempting first sip, like the flooding of fuel to a speeder, and the sparks to a fuse to explosive; Paislee's passion for booze was set ablaze. Her heart was light and airy as the evening carried on she figured what she'd get herself into. Like a trap door, nothing awaited her but trouble. 

The drinks she managed to guzzle down before she snagged up a couple bottles to take home. She managed to find her long fingers gripping another neck of a wine bottle. It didn't matter at this point. Her dry tongue was quenched with the fizzling bubbly champagne she longed to have again. 

Four days scurried by and she couldn't resist it. Her fingers traced the fine print on the label. She caressed the neck of the bottle as she would make the hairs stand on the back of a man's neck. Alcohol was her first love and her first drug. If it meant she spend the night alone, so be it. 

The main hallways of her Dromund Kaas home remained unoccupied, dimmed, and serene as Paislee stumbled loudly. Her voice chimed against the walls of the throne room and the sound it made bolstered her courage as she giggled louder. 

From the shuffle of her feet, one would have thought she was dancing in the hall, but alas she was drunk. She was satisfied, relaxed, upset, and kriff probably disappointed, if not all of the above. However, that sweet and tangy jolt of fluids sang praised to her taste buds, dampened her neurons, and clouded her judgment. It made her feel free. Though many people preached to her that drinking was an escape; she felt justified hiding behind bottle after bottle. 

Paislee's eyes felt heavier as she stared out her bedroom window. The instantaneous rise in temperature caused her to shed her clothes which revealed her blackened-purple polka dot bruises that covered her waist and stomach. Her forehead painted with a dab of crusted dry blood. 

She barely can recall how she got home that night or that she managed to get jumped on the way there. Her head pounded with a surging thunder as she collided against her cold satin sheets. Surprisingly, she managed to win another fight but barely this time. What a night for a drunk.


End file.
